


Night Shift

by jadzeanna



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, I wrote this years ago and am posting it with minimal editing, PWP, Workplace Sex, highly recommend the use of telepathy in the bedroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22246438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadzeanna/pseuds/jadzeanna
Summary: Tasha wakes up missing her girlfriend. Physically. Working different shifts is the worst.
Relationships: Deanna Troi/Tasha Yar
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Night Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I know it's not technically telepathy, but there is series precedent between Troi and Riker, and I didn't know what else to call it.

The alarm chirped, and Tasha drifted into consciousness. Morning. Evening? Afternoon, for sure. 1700 hours. Night shift started at 1900.

Tasha rolled over, ready to nuzzle into her lover’s neck. But where she expected to find Deanna, she found her side of the bed empty. The sheets weren’t even warm. Of course. Deanna was working the day shift, as always. There were no nighttime therapy sessions. And she’d be coming home late today, because personnel reviews were coming up and Deanna was so worried about them.

But dammit, Tasha missed her already. She missed the sweet scent of Deanna’s hair product and the slightly salty taste of her skin. She missed the feeling of Deanna’s curves pressed against her, when she slides her hand along Deanna’s waist, pulls her into a kiss. She wanted to smile and laugh with her, to feel Deanna’s hands clench the fabric of her shirt. Wanted to run her hands along Deanna’s hips, to feel her lean into Tasha’s touch. Wanted to slip a hand under the hem of her nightshirt and—

No. She had to get ready for work. High pitched sonic shower it is, then.

Tasha stripped off her pajamas as she walked to the bathroom, tossing them haphazardly in the corner. She folded her arms over her stomach, set the heat and pitch of the shower, scrubbed her body and hair clean with the vibrations. Styled her hair, put on undergarments, climbed into her uniform jumpsuit. Ordered a cup of coffee from the replicator—50 degrees, cool enough to drink right away—and sipped it as she ran through her itinerary for the night.

Deanna’s office was only two decks from security. She could stop by, get a kiss at least – Deanna wasn’t so professional that she’d be upset with a _little_ distraction, and she would just be doing paperwork anyway. She’d be happy to see Tasha between shifts. She always was.

Or Tasha could focus, could make herself look at the duties for the night. Night shift in security was fifteen people, with another fifteen on call in case anything actually happened. They would mostly be doing simple rounds of the ship tonight, but there would be a touch and go rendezvous with an Andorian vessel at 0130 hours.

It was a slow evening. Tasha really just needed to observe the nighttime security crew’s performance for the upcoming personnel review. She’d have a lot of downtime.

And oh, how she wanted to spend that free time with Deanna.

Deanna pushed the review padd to the side, brought up the next personnel file on her console. On a ship of over a thousand, such a mundane review could take over a week, and she was already behind schedule. Her back ached from leaning over the desk; her legs cried out to stand up; her eyes and throat felt dry. It was beyond time to take a break.

Five more files, she told herself. Then she could stand up, get some water and go for a walk around the corridor.

Before she could get past the next file, though, she felt a familiar presence approaching. Tasha. Deanna was pleasantly surprised that Tasha would come visit her before her shift; usually, security duty kept her too busy during her night shift rotations, and they only crossed paths in the mornings. Tasha seemed lonely and somewhat anxious, so Deanna inferred she was seeking out the company of a confidante. That meant her or Data. Data was on duty on the bridge, and Tasha was definitely coming toward Deanna’s office. To see her. She felt her heart skip a beat and a smile crawl onto her lips. She had picked a good time to take a break.

Deanna signed off her console and was closing the last file when the doorbell chimed. Even if it weren’t a breach of confidentiality to have patient files open around others, Tasha seemed uneasy, and deserved her full attention.

Deanna put the last padd down, stood up, and called, “enter,” just before Tasha reached out to the chime. Her hand was hovering over the panel as the door slid open. She looked up at Deanna and felt her heart stop.

Deanna’s voluminous hair was tied up in a bun, but a curl had fallen loose and framed the left side of her face. Her skin looked dull, and the circles under her eyes were dark, but her eyes sparkled when they met Tasha’s. She was stunning. Tasha wanted to caress her chin, to stare into her eyes, to kiss her softly, to hold her close. She wanted to press Deanna against the wall and run her hands down her sides. She wanted to find a million new ways to say the words that never seemed enough: I love you. I want you. I need you. She wanted to tell Deanna how beautiful she always is, how her mere existence sends daggers into Tasha’s heart, ripping her to pieces so wonderfully she wanted to never be whole again.

“Well? Come in.” Deanna’s grin was wide, almost a leer – she certainly could tell by this point the content of Tasha’s reverie. They were long past the point of being guarded around each other.

Tasha stepped in, walked around Deanna’s desk, held out her arms for an embrace only to be surprised when Deanna spun her and pushed her against the desk, forcing Tasha to grab her shoulder for balance as Deanna kissed her hard. Her lips locked with Tasha’s insistently, biting at her lip as she gripped Tasha by the waist and pressed their bodies together. Just when Tasha wondered if she’d ever breathe again, Deanna pulled back for a breath and kissed her more softly, gently pressing and tugging against her lip. Tasha just drank it in like air to a drowning man, tugging the elastic out of Deanna’s hair, clutching between Deanna’s shoulder blades. The needy pleas she felt so strongly but wouldn’t dare vocalize tugged at Deanna’s core, and Deanna needed her back just as badly. Tasha was greedy for affection, and heaven knows Deanna was greedy for distraction.

Deanna kept her hands on Tasha’s waist and let Tasha explore her body, nuzzling into and kissing her neck, caressing her chin in her palm, running her hands down her arms and squeezing her hands, then tucking a curl of hair out of Deanna’s face and kissing her gently, on the lips, across to her ear, down her neck to the edge of her uniform collar. Tasha tugged briefly at the edge of the collar. Deanna turned her neck away and Tasha took the hint, reaching around back to tug the zipper on her uniform down to her waist.

Tasha’s hands were rough and soft at the same time. They were active hands. Hands that fought for a living. Her nails were trimmed short and clean. Her palm had calluses from wrestling and shooting and climbing. Dr. Crusher only got rid of cuts and scars. Calluses were adaptive, so they remained. Deanna rather liked them, anyway.

Deanna tilted her head back, let her eyes flutter closed and her mouth hang open, and let herself feel. She liked how Tasha’s palm gently scratched her skin rather than smoothly gliding down Deanna’s neck to her shoulders. She liked that Tasha’s grip on her shoulders was firm. She was sure. She didn’t tremble when she tilted Deanna’s chin into a kiss, when she caressed Deanna’s breast, when she slid Deanna’s jumpsuit off her shoulders to hang from her hips.

Tasha slid her hands down Deanna’s spine and folded them together at the edge of the exposed skin of her waist, right above where cloth still covered the lower half of her body.

Deanna pulled back, met Tasha’s eyes with a look that promised irresistible danger. She grabbed Tasha’s hand and dragged her to the office couch, unceremoniously shoving the coffee table aside with her foot.

Standing in front of the couch, she pressed herself against Tasha chest to chest, hips to hips, arms reaching around her back to unzip Tasha’s zipper as she murmured into her neck, “I need you so badly right now.”

Tasha just stood there dumbfounded as Deanna pulled the zipper down her back, tugged her uniform down her arms and over her hips so it pooled at her feet. She let desire flow through her, sharp and hot, as she watched Deanna kneel before her to remove her shoes. She noticed her heightened senses as a slight breeze set the hair on her arms on edge.

Tasha found herself overwhelmed trying just to take in what was happening. She had stepped into the fantasy she had been trying to keep herself from getting lost in all morning. Deanna kissed Tasha’s thigh, pulled herself up by Tasha’s hips to her knees, reached a hand under Tasha’s regulation sports bra to caress her breast as she kissed her stomach. It felt so good. It felt right. Tasha just tangled her hand in Deanna’s hair, stroked her shoulder, unfocused her eyes and instead focused on the way Deanna massaged her hips, her ass, the back of her thighs.

Tasha let Deanna push her backwards, and she gladly collapsed onto the couch, leaned back, spread her legs. Tangled her hands tightly in Deanna’s hair and pulled her into a kiss before she let Deanna continue to settle herself between Tasha’s thighs. Deanna kissed her hip, whispering something into it that Tasha couldn’t quite make out. She tugged at Tasha’s panties, and Tasha raised her hips so Deanna could pull them off. As Deanna slid the fabric down her leg, it sunk in what they were really doing, and _where_ , and Tasha felt a pang of guilt displace some of the craving in her stomach. She freed her hands and pushed herself to sit upright. Deanna just intertwined Tasha’s fingers with her own, kissed the back of her lover’s hand and pressed it to her cheek.

“You’re worried. You want this, but something is bothering you.” Of course she knew. She always knew. Of course Tasha had to fall for the only person she’d ever known who could read her like a book.

Tasha took a deep breath, fell back against the cushions. “You’re right. It’s just—you _work_ here, and you’re supposed to be working _now_ , and—"

Deanna pushed up off the floor and leaned over Tasha, resting her free hand on the back of the couch. Tasha looked up at her, face lost in a tangle of curls but brown eyes still piercingly bright. Tasha reached her free hand to push Deanna’s hair out of the way. She tucked a strand behind her ear, but it didn’t do much to control the untameable curls that immediately shifted back. Deanna pressed their joined hands to Tasha’s chest. When she finally spoke, her tone was authoritative. She wanted Tasha to listen, and to take her seriously.

“Yes, this is my workplace. But it’s entirely my business what I do here off hours, and the details of a rendezvous like this one are nobody’s business but ours. Besides,” Deanna smiled now, voice dropping to a melodic murmur, “I signed out when I sensed you approaching. Something about your emotional state told me you’d want a… distraction.”

Tasha grabbed Deanna’s hips and firmly tugged her down until, with a small squeak, she lightly fell on top of her. Then she cradled Deanna’s head with her right hand and pulled her into a searing kiss, breaking it to whisper “ _then distract me,_ ” before diving back into Deanna’s mouth.

Deanna broke away only to trail more kisses along Tasha’s jaw, nipping at her earlobe, sucking at her neck, panting for breath. Tasha’s hands squeezed and her short nails couldn’t quite get purchase wherever they fell on Deanna’s body, which seemed to be everywhere. Tasha was frantic, needy, and Deanna felt high off her lover’s desire.

And then Deanna was moving downward and Tasha was holding her breath, wondering what she had in mind. A sloppy kiss to Tasha’s left nipple, leaving it wet and chilled, then a line of kisses down her stomach, the scrape of teeth just next to her belly button, a soft giggle against her pubic hair as Tasha’s abdominal muscles fluttered.

Deanna’s hands, one resting on Tasha’s breast, the other gripping Tasha’s forearm, both tightened gently, as if to hold her in place. Tasha briefly felt every muscle in her body tense, until she felt a slick tongue quickly slide over her clit and proceeded to forget she even had a body.

She heard herself gasp, felt herself press forward into Deanna’s face, saw Deanna’s eyes sparkle where they looked up into hers. Waited for more contact. Whimpered. Put together a “please, imzadi,” and tried to remember how to breathe.

That vocalization finally did it. Deanna’s lips were on her, making out with her swollen cunt, tongue pressing inside her, teasing her folds, making her cry louder with each maneuver of Deanna’s marvelous tongue.

Tasha felt tension build throughout her body, like the heat that was fogging her mind, the ever-louder throbbing of her heartbeat against Deanna’s mouth, the persistent crescendo of her cries. She could gladly stay indefinitely in this escalating bliss, but even if Deanna were continue tongue-fucking her for hours, she wouldn’t cum.

And she needed to cum… soon, surely. She would be late for work. The sexual frustration was almost enough to kill her already.

Tasha angled her hips down, so her vagina would be harder to reach than the spot where she really needed Deanna’s touch, but Deanna just moved her head and stayed latched onto Tasha’s inner lips.

Then Tasha moved her hand into Deanna’s hair, tangled her fingers into the curly roots, and tugged Deanna’s head gently upward. But Deanna just pulled back against Tasha’s grip and kept her mouth against her opening, pinching a petal of skin between her lips before pressing her tongue inside again.

Tasha groaned in frustration, tightened her grip in Deanna’s hair, and took a deep breath. They’d played this game before. Deanna wasn’t going to give her what she needed unless she asked for it with words.

Tasha could hardly put sounds together to moan let alone to make a coherent request. She still tried to say, “please love, I need – ohhh– I need to cum. Please.”

Deanna just pulled her tongue away long enough to murmur, her breath hot and chilling against Tasha's throbbing cunt, “I’m not stopping you.”

Tasha let out a huff, but Deanna dove back in and switched her technique to long, thick strokes of her tongue between Tasha’s lips, languid enough to turn her bones into jelly, never letting her tongue linger high enough to give Tasha the stimulation she really needed. If it could possibly be harder to think than before, it was.

Tasha tightened her fingers in Deanna’s hair, felt Deanna’s resulting moan vibrate between her hips. Forced herself to look down at her lover. Deanna was focused, hard at work, stubborn as hell, and the single hottest sight Tasha had ever seen. 

Deanna had been trying to teach her to communicate with her telepathically. It was difficult, given Tasha’s habitual guardedness, and how differently they tended to conceptualize things, but sometimes, when they were close together and focused on each other, they could share bits of phrases or images in their minds.

Maybe Deanna would see that Tasha was thinking of flipping Deanna over so she’s lying face up in her lap, Tasha’s hand reaching between them to fuck her with two fingers. The other arm holding Deanna against her, pinching and twisting mercilessly at a brown nipple. Deanna alternating between twisting her head to kiss Tasha, and letting her head roll back.

Maybe Deanna would see the echoed fantasy of herself, crying and begging and helpless the way Tasha is now. Maybe she’d need it half as badly.

Or maybe she’d just let out a hard breath against Tasha’s cunt, sharply twist a nipple between her fingers, moan loudly and wantonly into her. Maybe she’d move her hands to Tasha’s thighs when Tasha let out a sob and gripped her hair so tightly it almost hurt.

And maybe when Tasha said, “please, could you move up, you feel so good but could you touch my clit too,” she got what she wanted, a slight pressure as Deanna moved her lips upward, a tongue laving slightly farther now, making slightly faster, shallower strokes into Tasha’s cunt and then up over her aching clit, making her cry something between a sob and a moan and a ‘yes’ with each one.

Tasha felt the pressure finally begin to build, felt her stomach tighten gradually until she mumbled out “more, more, yes-“ and Deanna finally, mercifully focused her tongue entirely on her clit, first in circles, then faster, then sucking gently, then the dam burst and Tasha could only scream, and squeeze her thighs around Deanna’s head, and press her hips forward as wave after wave rocked her, spreading from Deanna’s lips through Tasha’s core.

The last few paroxysms few settled into Tasha’s chest and spread out from there, making her feel warm. Deanna licked her once more, gently this time, cleaning up some of the slippery fluids, then climbed next to Tasha on the couch so she could kiss her warmly and deeply.

Tasha mumbled something that sounded to Deanna like “ohmygodiloveyou,” and Deanna just kissed her again.

They sat side by side, naked on the couch in silence, Tasha’s head resting on Deanna’s shoulder.

Eventually Deanna patted Tasha’s chest, and Tasha opened her eyes to look at her lover, then sat up, stretched, and asked the computer for the time.

“The time is 1850 hours,” replied the mechanical voice.

“Shit, I’m late.” Tasha was on her knees on the floor a second later, scrambling to find her underwear, bra, then the yellow uniform, not the blue one. She hoped she wasn’t too disheveled, that she wouldn’t smell like sweat and sex in front of her underlings.

When she’d fastened everything in place Tasha stood up, turned around, all her concerns evident though unspoken. “How do I look?”

Deanna stood up, stepped closer, fussed with her collar. “Handsome, as always.”

Tasha locked eyes with Deanna and said, “I’m really sorry, Dee. I’ll make it up to you when I get back from my shift, if you’re up. Promise.”

Deanna rested her hand on Tasha’s waist and her cheek on her shoulder and let out a long sigh. “I understand. Go do your job and then I’ll see you do that in the morning.”

Tasha kissed her one last time and walked out the door.

Through the doorway, Deanna met Tasha’s eyes one last time, smiled, and said, “I hope your surprise involves that image of me in your lap. It was… _very_ tempting.”

Tasha’s jaw fell open as the door slid shut.


End file.
